Aching elementary hearts

 This morning in our home, today began like most mornings over the last nine months have- a flurry of alarm clocks, sock hunts, lunch making, shirt turning inside-out-ing, backpack filling, shoe finding, five minute reminder chaotic filled moments. We made a special trip for "last day of the school year donuts" on the way to yet another traffic jammed elementary school drop-off lane commute. 

"Have a great last day of school! I love you!" I called to each of my three kiddos as they jumped out of the van and scurried off for the school doors. 

Yesterday, my fifth grader gave me permission to cry if I needed as I embraced the sentiment of the day. As I drove away, I did just that.

I have spent the majority of the past six years' mornings in that drop-off lane, calling out to one, then two, then three kiddos as they left my presence each morning. I've watched scrawny little wide-eyed, nervous and excited kids grow into bigger, more confident, wise, hilarious, and sometimes awkward kids. 

I have had six years worth of first day of school teary drop-offs and now six years of last day of school teary pick-ups. 

This afternoon was different. I surprised my kids at the school picking them up again this year, and each one greeted me with tears falling down their cheeks, as usual for the day. But this year, the tears had a little more depth to them as we all realized the end of an era has come. 

The big brother of the trio finished elementary school today. Overcome with emotions, he made his way to me, walking alongside one of the counselors who has helped him grow so these years, and immediately found solace in my arms. I held him while he cried and told me how it was hard to say goodbye, so difficult to be done with the hallways and classrooms of the building, and so sad to say goodbye to almost every other fifth grader, as he would not be attending the same middle school as they would. He told me how much he was going to miss his teacher and so many other teachers and staff in the building. He found himself embraced in hugs from his siblings and from some staff, and waved teary goodbyes to many others. I reminded him that he may still see some of them around the city, and again in early mornings next year as he waited for his bus transport to middle school each day. He reminded me gently that "that's not the same." I acknowledge the truth as well and held his hand as we walked onward. 

His siblings, also saddened by the see you later the end of the year brings, cried over having to part with teachers they loved, and knowing it would be a shorto before they'd see many of their classmates again. But this year, they cried alongside their brother as the reality that he wouldn't be in their school next year sunk in. They cried over surprise encounters and hugs in the hallway they would no longer have. They remarked on the sadness knowing they would be across town. They all hugged each other a while, before walking silently down the sidewalk to our van. 

We celebrated with a treat after school as we usually do, and then came home to unwind. They all fell asleep quickly after mentioning in an upbeat fashion that it's now summer break and that it is exciting. 

As they fell asleep in their room, I laid in my own, tears streaming yet again as I process the events of today. My heart swells with pride in bittersweet moments where they huddle together to embrace memories they have shared and anticipation of change. 

My heart aches as I remember all the years that have gone by, and feeling like somehow time cheated us all. We spend so much of our days going from one thing to the next and planning for things to begin and subsequently end, looking at the clock and the calendar and cramming as much as we can into our lives, day in and day out. The past few years have brought a bit of reprieve from that way of life and have made way for evaluation and reset, but still, so many days pass us by in old fashion. 

Tonight, I realized my oldest is nob longer an elementary student. He is nearly 12. Most of my years with him in my home may have already gone by. Most of my summers spent making memories with all three have likely passed us by. We are holding onto final years, weeks, and days together, and we will never get them back again. I find myself holding my breath as I write those words, knowing that I need to embrace that reality and make our time count. I know the risk of complacency and the ease at which we can take our time for granted. In the uncertain world we find ourselves in, I tell myself that cannot be good enough. I have to do better. 

I pray for the strength, the resilience, the persistence, determination, resolve, grace, wisdom, and mercy to truly value our days together while my children are young. I pray I am not so easily distracted or frustrated and able to be more present. I pray that even amidst preteen and teenage drama and hormones and power struggles and boundary testing, misunderstandings and overwhelming emotions, beautiful relationships continue to flourish. I pray that for every fight there are two loving encounters on the other side. 

Rocky roads may lay ahead in uncertain territory but I believe some of the most wonderful journeys will occur right beside them.

I pray for countless tomorrows in a life we take for granted, with the stark realization from current times that there's no guarantee for any hour past this one. 

One of the things I want most for my life is that my children will look back some day, and despite the countless traumas, trials, struggles and sorrows, they will see me there with them, helping them embrace the beauty and joy in every season. I want their memory banks to be filled in a way that they will never question whether I was there or cared enough. I want them to one day be adults that knew just how fully loved they were in every stage of their childhood. 

Time is already winding down. 

Begin Again

 This year, as we are all aware, has been one unlike any other.  That sounds so cliche because every year is different, but with an on-going pandemic still taunting our lives, there have been so many events we have never faced before.

The school year is no different.  In-person learning, locally, ended abruptly in March right about the time that I came down with covid-19.   The week I awaited my test results and gradually became sicker, we attempted the distance learning model at home.  When I became so sick I could hardly breathe sitting still, let alone walk around the apartment or deal with school work, we quit for multiple weeks.  

The children never went back to their classrooms again, not even to pick up school supplies.  Everything was handled outside the school building.  Playgrounds and parks were closed.  Swimming pools never opened.  The summer was also, one we had never experienced before.  As I have still been dealing with lasting effects of a six week fever from covid-19 and subsequent pneumonia, then a break and two weeks fighting off bronchitis, I have worked very little at my job, and we have been at home more than we have since I was a stay-at-home-mom six years ago.

What simultaneously seemed like suddenly and also ages later, the school year approached.  

Locally, the decision was made for the kiddos at our elementary school to have two separate first days, divided alphabetically.  That meant that my littles had their first day back inside the school building this past Friday.

They had been excited, nervous, anxious, and occasionally dreaded going back.  There were so many changes happening this year.  Masks are expected for students and faculty, and although not mandatory, we are told that if your child doesn’t wear a mask, they’ll be repeatedly asked to put one on, questioned, and parents may be contacted.  (Side note: this is not a mask debate, so please do not start one.). Each of my children’s classes will be eating lunch in their classrooms this year.  The playground has been divided into sections, and none of the classrooms in each grade level are permitted to play together during recess.  Visitors are restricted.  The sick policy is very stringent... so forth and so on.

So, when we prepared for school to begin, there was a lot to process.  Truthfully, having survived the virus, although it’s still causing me issues, my children and I have looked the potential fatality of it straight in the face and come out the other side, so I haven’t felt worried or anxious about sending my children to school. I know the risks involved, and I’ve heard all sides of the debates going on.  It was the right choice for my family for my children to return to school.

The first day of school for my children was riddled with initial excitement, some grumpiness, a little rain, a little sunshine, typical first day photos, and a fun new addition in that they were able to take a photo with their future step-sister, who also started the same day, and is now going to the same school they are.  As we walked to the school, knowing that unlike years past, we could not wait together on the playground, and children could not play on the playground before school, their nerves started rising slightly.  As we approached the doors they will enter this year and pulled up their masks over their noses, both boys hugged me and walked in with slight-to-no-hesitation.  Their sister was a different story.  She cried and clung to momma as hard as she could, eventually taking the hand of a friend and going inside.

I cried as I walked away.  It was not tears of fear or anxiety.  It was tears of letting go, tears of change, tears of momma-hood.

I was fortunate to pick them up for daycare myself, and each ran out of the school with a smile.  We talked about the days and they all reported that the first day was good.  The only complaint came from the middle kiddo.  There’s a nut allergy in his classroom and because they are eating inside the classroom, this year he cannot have peanut butter or Nutella, which is his favorite sandwich combination.  After researching and connecting with the proper faculty, we decided on Wow-butter and jelly as an alternative.  I sampled it and thought it tasted nearly identical.  I did not tell him about the swap because I was sure that if I did he wouldn’t give the sandwich a chance.

The report, his day was “good but there was something wrong with the sandwich at lunch.”  He took two bites and declared that to his classroom.  I tried it again today with more jelly.  We shall see what the report is.  He knows the science behind acquiring a taste for new foods, because he’s told me all about it before.  Somehow, the boys seem to think that it doesn’t apply to them personally however.  

Today was the second day of school.  Due to a light work schedule this week, I am able to walk them to their doors again.  This morning went more breezily, and there were less tears from the little miss.  There was more sunshine in the sky and less supplies in the backpacks.  There were still masks on the faces, but bigger smiles in the eyes.  Hopefully, there will be less wow-butter sandwich left in the box.

There they go.

Today was a big day in our household.   Everyone woke early with all sorts of nervous, excited anticipation of what was to come- the very first day of school, where all three siblings would be in the same elementary school.  They'll continue on there for a few more years together, but this year, the oldest is a 3rd grader, the middle is a 1st grader, and the youngest started kindergarten.

I woke early and began praying over my babies before their eyes ever opened.  Last night was rough for Norah, as she laid her head on her pillow, she started crying. I asked why and she gave me a reason, but I didn't think it was the real reason, so I asked if she was nervous for school.  She shook her head yes and began crying, unleashing all of her worries and fears.  She had been putting up a brave face for a while, and it was good, although almost unbearable to walk through, the flood gates opening wide.  I prayed overnight that she would be filled with peace in the morning.

Each of my babies put on their first day of school clothing in a hurry, and sat at the table, full of giggles and smiles as I finished preparing for the day.  We then headed out front for our annual first day photos.  We had time to spare, so little miss asked if we could go to daycare and she could surprise her best friend (my coworker) before school, like we have visited her for almost every day for five years.  She was so excited to open the door and jump through and give her hugs before school started.  Then, we met up with their dad who gave them his well wishes on his way to work, and off we went to find a parking spot fairly close to the school.  We managed to be only about two blocks away.



The walk, as it was two years ago, and three years ago, was pretty quiet.  The children shuffled along in a line at first, and then two in front, and then three all together, as we neared the school.   When we were about a block away, big brother bear Spencer insisted he hold his little sister's hand the rest of the way.

We got to the playground and, as usual, it was filled with all sorts of excited and nervous energy, happy laughter, tearful smiles, and people all over the place.  Collin immediately found his class line and some friends, and we almost had to beg him for a hug each before he told us to have a good day and went off on his own.  Norah and I walked Spencer to his line and hugged him, before she transferred her hand from his to mine.  She hadn't said much yet, so I asked if she was excited and she gave a quiet "yes" while looking shocked at the amount of people around her.  Eventually, she spotted some of the kids she has spent most of her life with at daycare, and hugged them, finally excited for the day to come.

We found her line and stood together, and I asked if we could take a picture together.  She said yes, and we both smiled at the phone.  As soon as I had the photo taken, she turned to hug me, and the bell rang.  Lines started moving inside, and she began to cry.  She was scared, she was nervous, and she was afraid she would miss me all day.  She didn't know if she could do it.  I held her close and reminded her she's brave and that she would see me in a few hours.  I nearly had to peel her off of my torso, before she released enough to be just holding my hand, and I walked her as far as I could to the door.

As she went inside, I realized I was crying, too.

I cried on the way to work.  I calmed myself enough to go inside.

Then her best friend asked me if we made it through okay.  I said yes, but my voice was already crying. 

I was okay for three hours before I cried again.

The hardest part was that I couldn't just hear her voice, text her teacher upstairs to check on her, or walk there myself.  I knew I wouldn't just randomly see her in the hallway.  She was far away with a teacher I don't really know, for the first time ever.  Almost five years in the same building is a hard tradition to break.

I received a text from a friend who works at the school, saying she saw Miss Norah and she was doing amazing.   I felt so much better.

Both Spencer and Norah visited me at work briefly after school and said they had great days.  At the end of the day, Collin reported the same.  I was also told that Norah was so kind at school that there was another little girl crying at recess because she missed her mom so much, and Norah helped her to feel better.  My heart about burst.

I knew it was going to be okay.  I knew what I told myself the other night- it was time to let her go and spread her light, her love, and her joy at the school.

Tonight, as I sit here, all three sound asleep within minutes after a long and overwhelming day, and I am filled with anticipation at hearing what will come of their lives, all in the elementary school, shining their light.  I pray that they will make the world a better, brighter place.  I let them all go.    I have tears on my face as I realize the younger years are done, the baby days will never be back, and their journeys are well underway. I pray I've done well in preparing them.

I know they'll make me proud.

I know it's time...

Tonight, my slightly dramatic Momma heart is aching.  Tonight, I sit in quiet living room, my mind whirling as I prepare for bed, exhausted and tired, but not quite wanting to go to sleep.  I would like to postpone the hours of the day just a little big longer in hopes to prevent tomorrow from coming too soon.

Tomorrow is another milestone in our little family.  Tomorrow is the end of a chapter in our lives, one that's been almost five years in the making, that's somehow arrived at a close way too soon.

Tomorrow is my little girl's last day of full-time daycare before she goes off to elementary school.

It's funny to me that I'm so emotional about this.  Both of her older brothers have come and gone from the daycare rooms already.  Her oldest brother has been gone for almost as many years as she has been there.  I don't know if it's harder just because she's the youngest, or more likely, harder because she's been there longest.

Daycare has been a huge part of my life story with this beautiful girl.  

Her first day of daycare

She, the boys, and I all started daycare together on December 8, 2014.  She was 8 months old, and the other two were a toddler and a preschooler.  We ended up at our daycare by a sheer act of God, where I was able to be employed and there was room for all three of them to be there with me in the building while I worked.   It was a huge blessing in a very dark and chaotic time in our lives.  

Nearly every single day since, Norah and I have gone to daycare together.  The boys were with us too, for a while, but they both eventually left us behind, and the last two years, it was just the two of us.  My baby girl has spent the majority of her life at this daycare, with many of the same staff throughout the years, and a lot of the same children growing up alongside her.  It's been a huge constant in our lives.  It's so familiar.  She radiates joy throughout the halls, and I love bringing her with me every day to stop in and say hello to her "best friend," a momma-like figure in her life, her first daycare teacher, and my dear friend.  Every day she comes in for a hug, gets the lowdown on the lunch for the day, and bounces out the door calling out "I love you!" before we make our way to her classroom.

Tomorrow is the last day for that daily tradition (except for school breaks, which seem so far away right now).  Soon, I'll just be coming through that door all alone.  As I write this, it seems like an echoing memory that hasn't even had a chance to actually develop yet.

I've loved the security of having a job and also knowing my babies were safe within the same walls with people I've trusted and known were loving them all day.  It's been so hard to let each of the boys go.  This one just feels a little harder.  My dramatic side already worries that the halls will seem a little colder and the days a little lonelier knowing that all of my children will be down the street for most of their days from here on out.

Yet, I know it's time.

It's time to let go.

It's time to see her grow.

A few weekends ago at church, we were asked to take a moment to listen and hear what we thought God was wanting to tell us, and write it down.

The only thing I heard was, "You are raising light."

It made sense.  "We are the lights" is a lyric to one of our favorite songs (by Cade Thompson), our wi-fi network is "Be a light," and I get "light" songs stuck in my head frequently.  But this was a little different, which I didn't really grasp until tonight as I kissed them all to sleep and left the room.

Photo Credit: Seize the Day Photography and Video

I am raising light.  I have been doing the best I can to raise them to be bright, positive influences on the world, before I let them all go out on their own.  The boys have already entered the school.  Now, she will.  Now it's her turn to bring light, sunshine, joy, and love to the world outside the walls who already know her for those exact reasons.  She's ready to join her big brothers, and I pray that together, they're able to spread joy, love, laughter, kindness, and Jesus to those around them in their personalities, words, and actions.

I know it's time...

Even if I don't want to let her go.

And off they went

Today was another milestone day in our little family's journey. Today was another first day of school.  Today, my oldest son started first grade.  Today, my younger son started kindergarten.

It was a day we had been anticipating for months, after making the decision to register for kindergarten.  That decision in itself was harder than accompanying the boys to school today, because my new kindergartener's birthday was cut-off day.  He attended a couple different pre-kindergarten schooling adventures prior, and both sets of teachers said they thought he was ready, so I registered him and  we began talking and planning for the big day to arrive.

Today was that big day.

This morning began like many others, only it was prefaced with a night of very little sleep for the younger boy, I suspect as he was filled with anxious excitement following a long, busy weekend with extended family.  I woke the children with my special "good morning" song, and dressed them in the outfits they decided on the night before (which isn't always how we do things, but for big days, we plan ahead).  We had a light breakfast and then excitedly hurried out the door for first day photos.

The most emotional one this morning was their little sister, who has been heartbroken for days at the realization that she would not be able to attend kindergarten this year OR next year.  She really, really really, really, really, really wants to go.  She says so herself.  I've tried to explain how awesome it will be to have momma all to herself if I don't have to work some mornings while the boys are at school, but so far... she's not sold.




To keep her in good spirits, or at least the best possible spirits, we decided that we would all accompany her into daycare this morning, so she wouldn't have to watch the boys leave her, rather, they hugged her goodbye, told her they loved her, and hoped she had a good day.

The boys and I then made the short trek to the elementary school.  We arrived early, which was my plan, so that they could play on the playground a bit and get out any nervous energy left over.  We took some photos together, and some of them individually.  When the bell was about to ring, we went searching for their class lines, and I left my oldest with his class and walked the younger to his.  I stood beside him, talking him through the process of the bell ringing, and how when they started to walk into the school, I would not be able to go with him.  He was very calm about it all, and then I ran back to his brother... twice.... to surprise hug him and tell him I was proud of and excited for him.  When the bell rang, the kindergarten class went in first, and Collin turned around, smiled, and waved at me as his class went inside.  As soon as I could no longer see him, I ran once more to Spencer, for one last hug, and watched him smiling and waving as he too went into the school.


And just like that, off they went.

Their days were filled with excitement and some frustration.  First grade was reportedly the most awesome and the teacher was top notch, so says my son.  Kindergarten was a bit of a struggle, but knowing that my kindergartener was literally the youngest in the class and the youngest one could be to be in school that year prepared me for that report.  When I asked him how school was, he reported it was good, and he liked his teacher, and yes, he did get in trouble a some times.  It's a learning curve, and I'm just going to pray he adjusts quickly (because I know he resists change and new authority), and that soon, his days will be as wonderful as his brother claims they are.  I would covet your prayers on the matter, too.

When we got home tonight, the little sister was overjoyed to see her brothers, and that they still all matched.  She asked if she could go to school tomorrow, but she didn't cry when we told her she still had two years to wait.

The first to first.

Today was a day that sort of snuck up on me, even though I've known it was on the horizon for months now.  Today was my first child's first last day of school.  Now, my first child is going to be a first grader.

That sounds unbelievable.  It seems like just weeks ago (I guess it was if you want to be technical) that I was sitting here, tears falling, after dropping him off for his first day of kindergarten.  Today, I dropped him off at school like it was no big deal, and wished his happy little self a wonderful last day of school.  

"Have a wonderful day too, Mom!" he called as he ran off.

I picked him up tonight, and he told me how his last day was awesome, and how he's now going to be a first grader.  

We didn't make a big deal out of it, like I know some people do. Maybe we should have.  I don't know.

We took his photo in his graduation year shirt, which he wasn't a fan of because it's too big, and I tried to explain how I want him to wear it every year on his last day of school so I can take his picture and compare.  He told me I was silly, but agreed to it anyway, and I hugged him, telling him I was so proud of him for all that he's learned and accomplished this year, for how brave he's become, and how joyful he has been.  I commended him on his perfect attendance, and his love for school, telling him how I loved school as a child as well.  He didn't have much interest for sentimental time and just wanted to have a little down time in the living room by himself reading one of his newer books from his last book order while his younger siblings enjoyed a big of fresh air before supper and bedtime.  

And that was that.  

Now it's our first summer vacation.  And next year, I'll have a first grader and a kindergartner and I don't know how my heart is going to handle it.

And there he goes...

Today arrived too quickly.  I willed time to slow down, but as always, it pressed on.

And as it goes, so did my first baby... Right through the doors of the elementary school and into kindergarten.

For the past couple weeks, he has been fluctuating between extremely excited and quite terrified.  He was very nervous at the meet and greet and wouldn't even talk to his teacher.  Yesterday, we talked about what today would be like, and after, he didn't want much to do with me until bedtime prayer.

We prayed over today, asking for bravery, peace, and excitement.  We prayed for him, his siblings, his momma, his teacher, and his friends.

This morning, he woke up peacefully.  I let him choose which shirt he wanted to wear for his first day of Kindergarten.  He had breakfast quietly while telling me he wasn't sure he wanted to go after all.  I reminded him that if he needed it, I would "share my brave," though quite honestly, I was feeling a lack of bravery myself and spent the morning trying to quell any emotions except excitement because I didn't want to trigger any negative emotions within him.



I asked if we could take pictures of him with his backpack.  He asked why, and I said "because this is an important day that we will want to remember forever, the day you were very brave, and started your new journey at school."  He agreed to do it, and started getting super excited.  I could hardly keep him still or focused while we stood out front of our apartments taking photos.

He began chattering about his new backpack from his Grandma and how he couldn't wait to show his teacher.  He told me he would give her a hug when he got to school.

We loaded the van up and dropped his back-pack clothed siblings off at daycare.  His sister went on like nothing was unusual, but his brother refused to leave the van.  He had a very tearfilled drop off, knowing he was going to be in a new room at daycare and his big brother wasn't going to be there at all.

Then, together, my first baby, the boy who made me mommy, my blue-eyed son and I went to elementary school.  While I thought that the excessive amount of other children and parents and commotion would make him anxious and scared, it didn't.  He got sad when we had to drive by the school and park a few blocks away, thinking we wouldn't get there in time.

We walked, hand in hand, to the school.  He had a moment where he was nervous, and he said, "Mom, will you tell me a joke?"  I gave him a quick interrupting cow, and he laughed hysterically, and all was well.  We took a photo together to commemorate this walk together, just us, on our first day of school.

When we arrived at the school, he remembered exactly where the blue door was, and he took the lead to walking us there, still holding hands.  We found his line, and he saw his teacher.  He shrieked her name, went running, and did what he said he would- he gave her a huge hug.  Then he showed her his backpack and his new school shoes and told her he was really happy to see her.  She hugged him back and beamed a huge smile at me as we remembered the scared little boy from just a over a week ago.

One of his friends from daycare showed up right behind us, and he hugged her and he shared his brave with her, as she was nervous too.  I couldn't help but just smile and hug him over and over and tell him how proud I was of him.

He kept asking why he was going to kindergarten.  I would tell him "because you're so smart, you've graduated preschool, and since you're five, you start the new school adventure."  Each time, he would just grin at me.

We stood there talking a while longer, before the bell rang.  I hugged him close, kissed him, and he said he loved me.  I told him I loved him so much and was so very proud of him.  We took one last photo together before he went in, and he walked bouncily in line to the doors, turning around every couple steps to look back, wave, at me, and smile.

And then the was gone.

I miss him so much already.  It's funny, because I've spent countless days without him. Although, this is the first time I've really left him with people I don't really know, who aren't my coworkers, friends, or family.  It's a scary new world out there for a momma trying to let go and let her baby boy grow up.

I didn't cry at all until now.  Now, I sit here, huge tears rolling down my face and splattering my shirt.

God answered our prayers, and he was strong, excited, and brave. I am so very thankful.

But my heart aches anyway.

I'm a little angry, too, that his dad is missing out on it all, by his own choice.  I'm sad for my kindergartner who misses his dad, and his dad who doesn't really embrace what he's missing. His lack of interest and absence is always felt, but days like today it stings a little sharper and cuts a little deeper.  It makes us stronger and braver though, I suppose.

But it's going to be okay.  God's got this.  Just like always.

I can't wait until 2:45 when I see him leaving the blue doors, running toward me, for another hug. I cannot wait to hear about his day and all of the things they did at school.  I can't wait to see his grin, and have him with me again.  And then, tomorrow, we start it all over.